The Doll's Eyes: Watching, Always Watching

Table of Contents

The Doll's Eyes: Watching, Always Watching

Emily had always loved antique stores, but when she found the porcelain doll with deep, glassy eyes, something inside her hesitated. The shopkeeper, an old woman with a knowing smile, handed it to her gently.

"This one has a history," the woman whispered. "It watches. Always watches."

Emily laughed nervously, paid for the doll, and took it home, placing it on a shelf in her bedroom. That night, as she lay in bed, she felt an unease creeping over her. The doll's eyes gleamed in the moonlight.

At midnight, she heard it. A faint rustling. Her heart pounded as she turned on the light. The doll was no longer sitting upright but leaning forward, its gaze locked onto her.

"This is ridiculous," Emily muttered, grabbing the doll and stuffing it into her closet.

The next morning, she woke up to find the doll back on the shelf.

"I must have forgotten," she told herself.

But as days passed, the disturbances grew worse. Objects moved on their own, whispers filled the air at night, and that doll—those unblinking eyes—always seemed to be watching.

One evening, her best friend Sarah visited. Emily hesitated before telling her about the doll.

"It's just your imagination," Sarah scoffed. "Let me prove it to you."

Sarah picked up the doll and set it in a locked drawer. "See? Problem solved."

That night, Emily awoke to a soft creaking noise. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw the drawer ajar. The doll was on her pillow.

She screamed.

Sarah rushed in. "Emily, what—?" She froze as she saw the doll. "But... I locked it..."

Emily decided she had enough. She took the doll and drove to a remote field, digging a deep hole and tossing it inside.

"You stay there," she whispered, covering it with dirt.

Relief washed over her as she returned home, exhausted.

That night, she slept peacefully for the first time in weeks.

Until she woke up.

The doll was back on her shelf.

A single whisper filled the air.

"Watching. Always watching."

Terrified, Emily called her grandmother, the only person in her family who believed in the supernatural.

"A cursed doll, you say?" her grandmother said after hearing the story. "It must be bound to you. You must find out its origin."

Determined, Emily returned to the antique shop, but the store was abandoned. Dust and cobwebs covered the shelves. She checked online and found no record of the store ever existing.

She felt a cold chill run down her spine.

Desperate, she reached out to an expert in the occult, Dr. Richard Meyers, a professor specializing in haunted artifacts. He agreed to examine the doll.

"This doll," he murmured, tracing his fingers over the cracked porcelain, "originates from the 1800s. It belonged to a child named Lillian, who mysteriously disappeared. Legend says her spirit resides within it."

Emily shuddered. "How do I get rid of it?"

Dr. Meyers frowned. "You can’t just throw it away. The spirit is attached to you now. You must break its connection."

He instructed her to perform a ritual—burying the doll in a church graveyard and sealing the soil with blessed water.

That night, Emily and Sarah followed his instructions, digging a hole beneath an old oak tree. As they poured the blessed water, the wind howled unnaturally, and a child’s laughter echoed around them.

"Emily..." Sarah whispered, her voice trembling. "I think something’s—"

The ground shook, and a shadowy figure appeared—a little girl with hollow, black eyes. "Why do you want to leave me?" the ghostly voice whimpered.

Emily gasped. "Lillian?"

The apparition took a step forward. "I just want a friend..."

Emily felt her heart break. "You’re lonely, aren’t you?"

The spirit nodded.

"Then it's time for you to rest, Lillian." Emily reached out her hand.

The child’s ghost hesitated before nodding slowly. The air grew still as the doll crumbled into dust.

Emily and Sarah stared at the empty space where the doll once was.

It was over.

Or so they thought.

Weeks passed without incident, and Emily finally felt safe. But one night, as she settled into bed, she heard it again.

A whisper.

"Watching. Always watching."

She turned slowly.

The doll was back.

And this time, it smiled.